There we are sitting under the shades of isolation
On the way side
Connected by a thin ribbon of road
Still waiting for the sunset
Splendor in the twilight.
Fading glow tells us of what it could be
Mortal life on the edge
Facing the horizon, beyond
Shaking frail hands.
Of our existence
Mutually exclusive, yet out of reach
In anticipation of
Unable to see what is happening
We pray with folded hands
Amid empty trees and dying grass
Safe return with all that what we gather.